The High Road of Honor
by Solitary Confinement
Summary: Fighting Neo-Arcadia with words is one thing. With weapons, it's another. When pushed to the wall, what does it take to continue fighting against all odds? Experimental. [Complete]
1. Faith of the Fallen

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

**: : The High Road of Honor : :**

_"If one doesn't fight for his freedom, there is no point to living. If one fights too hard for his freedom, there will be no one left to enjoy it. A wise leader will know where the balance lies." -'Chaos, Order, and Free Will' by Sage Harpuia_

The screen was already filling with threat indicators from the north, and more of them arrived with each minute that passed. The sensor terminal was having difficulty labeling each of these dangers, choosing instead to give an estimate of the enemy's strength of force based on energy readings. The processing power of the portable unit was struggling to calculate the variables being thrown at it. Despite that, it shone a single large number to indicate the coming power.

It took little to mistake the signature of an approaching Patheon Phalanx.

"What can we do?" Cale asked, staring at the screen with an annoyed look.

Shawl, from her post at the terminal, only moaned in despair. "Do? So far, the only thing we've done is run from them, and look where it got us. They'll overrun this position in twenty minutes at this rate."

"So you think this is a good place to make our stand?"

"It's better than anything else." Shawl snorted. "Figures, doesn't it?"

Cale nodded his agreement.

"What about Miss Ciel?" Another person asked.

He looked to the speaker. "Milan's taking her to the spot right now. She'll be safe so long as he's there."

The civilian nodded, holding his issued auto-rifle as if it meant the difference between living and dying. Of course that was fact, though, since the only solution to the dilemma facing them all was either killing others to win or to be killed and lost. Nearly a hundred reploids, all armed with the cheaply made rifles and green armored fatigues, were the difference between life and death for everyone. Five times as many others all huddled in the nooks and crannies of the building they selected to hide in. For them, there was only the agony of being useless in battle to think of.

"How safe can she be?" Trant suddenly growled, brows furrowed in pent in frustration. The one-time security reploid was growing short of temper, matched only by his utter lack of faith in their odds of survival. "We've barely been able to slow those Arcadians down. All our other outposts have been attacked, and this one will go, too! It was a mistake, trusting some rumor about a legendary warrior. Look where it got us!"

"You think we're doomed?" Shawl turned in her chair to look the burly reploid in the eyes. "I believe. Ciel _will_ come back with the legendary hunter Zero at her side and bring Neo-Arcadia down once and for all!"

He gathered himself up, hoping not to look weak in his resolve. "Pah! It's all just a fairy tale! We'll die sitting here, and waiting for some savior to sweep away the enemy is just a daydream! I say we leave this place and head west, somewhere that Neo-Arcadia doesn't have so much influence."

"That's a waste of time, Trant, and you know it." Cale stepped up to the man, adding his own glaring blue eyes to the argument. "Neo-Arcadia has people all over the world, you just can't just run from them. We've got to think of something, and looking for the legendary hunter is the best thing we've got now!"

"Cale is right, we've got to trust Miss Ciel and buy her time."

"At the cost of our own lives! What's the point of fighting if we'll just die!" He turned to face the general population of green clad reploids at the walls. "Think about it! Why should we let ourselves be killed for some legend that isn't true?"

Cale grabbed Trant's vest and spun him around. "Keep quiet, fool! I won't have you scaring the others, we know what the risks are looking for him."

Trant remained silent, glowering.

"Shawl, let me know when the enemy gets within five hundred meters of this location, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Cale tugged Trant towards a crack in the wall of their hideaway. "Come on."

The two reploids passed through the crack and into the brisk air of the city ruins. Had they really been able to cross the deserts and wastelands to arrive here? Neo-Arcadia itself seemed so far away, the tilting ruins of an abandoned metropolis all that was close by. Clouds hung low overhead and the winds howled like a symphony of agony for those hiding inside. Free of prying eyes, Trant shoved Cale aside and stood ready for anything to come.

"What is it? Something you want to tell me?"

Cale crossed his arms. "I don't like this any better than you do, but we've been given a job to do. If we can just delay the patheons for even a few minutes, it will be enough for Miss Ciel to find the legendary hero. We all swore to protect her. Do you want to just give up on that? Neo-Arcadia will slaughter us regardless of what we do here."

"Then it _is_ hopeless!" He barked.

"No, it isn't. What we do here is for the sake of all the other reploids in hiding around the world that live in fear. If we can find the hero, then he can defeat Neo-Arcadia and save all reploid-kind from this genocidal war!"

"But it's _hopeless_! Neo-Arcadia has an entire Patheon Phalanx coming for us! How can we slow that down?"

"By doing our best and working together as a team. It's our only chance."

Trant huffed, staring out to the distance. "I...just don't want to die like this. I don't want to be fighting against impossible odds with only a rumor to justify it. I just can't put any hope in it."

Cale was about to snap another remark at the reploid, but the expression on his face halted the words. He looked angry as ever, but his eyes seemed to glimmer with worry and fear. Everyone else had that same look, but his was far worse than any other. It was the same look in his comrades in the city, at Pyrric Square and the red crossroads.

_'He's already dead inside.'_

The blue eyed reploid approached Trant and put a hand on his shoulder. "I understand."

"Liar."

Cale smirked at his forced humor. "Alright, maybe I don't, but I'm not without feelings. If you want to go, then go. I won't hold you here against your will. Maybe you'll survive and be able to help Ciel when she returns, with or without the hero."

That made Trant quake, his eyes peering back towards the reploid whom he had only known for three days since the running started. The person who had rallied against fear and brought them together like an extended family, the person who fought harder than any for the sake of freedom, and now he said to leave?

"Leave?" Trant croaked.

A nod.

"...You won't think ill of me?"

Cale shook his head, stepping back. "You've already proven yourself braver than most men I know by sticking with us thing long. Going now, it might as well be for the better."

Trant hesitated for a long while, mulling over the choices presented to him. Cale was hoping that the reploid would stick with them, since they needed all the men they could muster. If he chose to leave, then they would have to do without. He looked back to the distant city, as if something within drew his eyes with the promise of freedom and life.

_'Cale, they're coming.'_ Shawl radioed to his headset. _'Sensors picked up a strong energy reading at the front. It's trouble for sure, more than we thought.'_

_'Okay, get everyone stationed. I'll be there soon.'_ He replied in the privacy of peer-to-peer communication.

Trant turned around and hefted his support rifle, heavy with the weight of adamantium tipped munitions. Cale took it respectfully despite his sadness. Without a word said, the burly reploid began a brisk walk towards a flood channel in the east, a route of potential safety. Cale sighed, turning for the building and his destined meeting with the approaching drone swarm.

"Where's Trant?" Shawl asked when he came into the main room.

"He's gone."

"Gone? He ran off?"

"Don't be upset, he wouldn't have been any help in his condition. How's the line?"

"Everyone is set. Scouts report the numbers to be in the hundred, and there's a division of Golems hanging around the rear."

That struck a chord in Cale, one that nearly dashed his own hopes of living through the day. Golems were awesome weapons, so powerful that no one in the resistance had ever seen one destroyed in battle. The patheon units could be easily duped into traps and ambushes, but not so with the armor clad giants. Pin them down as you would, but no force could match their raw strength or the cyan laser mounted in their 'head'.

"Plus there's that other reading. We can't analyze it, and I haven't got a visual on it, either." Shawl turned the sensor relay off and began packing it. "What do you think it is?"

"It could be anything."

"One of the...Guardians?"

Another nervous quiver ran up his spine. "Let's hope not."

Closing the sensor, she slung it on her back and drew out a rare mark three plasma buster. Since she was one of the few who were given the honorary titles of a leader, they offered her the powerful weapon as a real safeguard against the enemy. They would be needing her soon to help stave the assault off. "Well, even if it is, the only thing we can do is try, right?"

He grinned and patted her shoulder. "No, we _will_ do it and win. Bring the assault and heavy arms teams to the left flank and keep them hidden. We'll draw the enemy to the right and strike at the Golems as they pass by."

"Right!" She ran for the walls, bounding over a fallen concrete block and gone from view.

Cale opened a radio line to the members of his resistance. _'Attention, men! The enemy is almost within range of our weapons. Do everything you can to draw the enemy towards the right! Remember, don't think you'll be safe in this place. Keep on the move and draw them out as far as you can. Group up on them and keep them confused! I believe in each of you and wish you the best of luck!'_

With that last line, he cut the radio link and moved to his spot at the near tip of their defensive line. Making use of his improved optical eyes, he focused on the front with binocular-like precision and saw the most feared sight of the modern world: Patheons, hundreds if not thousands of them, all marching towards his men without fear or regret. Blue bodies and large red eyes, modeled after the Neo-Arcadian leader Master X, clumped together thick enough to be a wave cresting on the beach. The sight soured what courage was left to him.

_'I think I'd have gone with you, Trant, if I didn't have faith in Miss Ciel's plan. Better to take some of them with me when I die.'_

Suddenly his sight fell onto a green figure among all the blue, and he stopped on it and focused in. Fear roiled in his gut as he recognized the thin and angular form of the green guardian, General Harpuia. Swords drawn, hovering above his men, he seemed a misplaced member of the ranks. His collected and smug expression told that he was more then ready to add his weight into the fight.

"Attention mavericks!" His voice boomed over the landscape, echoing eerily along the building grounds. "You have been surrounded and are without hope! Throw down your weapons and submit to the rightful authority of Master X!"

Cale was tempted to reply, but an unfamiliar voice came before his.

"To hell with your authority! We have our rights, you can't just label us mavericks without cause!"

"The fact that you defy my master only shows that you are truly twisted creations unfit for our utopia!" Harpuia retorted. "I say again, surrender and come with us peacefully. If you do so, I will ensure that none of you are harmed."

"If this is your idea of Arcadia, then we'd rather roast in Pandemonium!" The same voice cried.

Harpuia seemed to be cross with the choice, but he raised an arm and waved his men forward. "So be it."

Cale watched as the enemy came closer and closer, until at one hundred meters they raised their arms and brought their semi-auto plasma cannons into action. The green General was already a blur in the air, closing to make use of his arsenal. As hundreds of yellowish balls of superheated gas came rushing for their positions, he opened fire with his rifle and adamantium cartridges. Many of his men carried conventional bullets of lead, nearly worthless against the neo-titanium armor of the Pantheon soldier.

His worry only lasted as long as it took the fire to reach from one side to the other.

>>>

"Oh!"

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Zero, look! There are reploids over there!"

The red hunter looked to where the nervous scientist pointed, noting a few green bodies lying across the rubble of a demolished building. Quick scans showed that none of them were alive.

"They are dead." He stated.

"But still...! We should check for any survivors, they might need help." She jogged towards the rubble, pushing aside her fears in the hope of finding someone alive.

Zero followed her, checking the area for enemies and to understand what happened. Taking a visual account of the surroundings for their new home was tedious, more so with the discovery of bodies. Obviously, there was a fight between resistance reploids and the Patheons here, and it seemed that it went badly for them. There were stones cut with precision marks, melted and evidence of heavy weapons use. A battered golden hand lying in the debris told that it was Golems that raided the building, part of a larger force.

"Zero!" Ciel's voice carried over the winds easily in the silence. When he arrived at her side, she was trying to help a reploid to lean up from his place on the ground. His lower body was smashed, an arm bent awkwardly behind him and his face bloodied.

"Zero, he's still alive!" She exclaimed. "Can you carry him? He needs help right away. I'll call Cerveau."

While she fumbled with a portable communicator, Zero carefully picked up the fallen reploid. He was looking towards the distance with pale blue eyes, barely able to stay conscious. Those eyes then looked to Zero, and he seemed to liven up at the sight of the red hunter.

"W-Who are you?" He wheezed.

"My name is Zero."

"Z-zer...? Ah-h, I see..." The reploid smiled, eyes wavering. "Then there really is...hope..."

At that, the reploid closed his blue eyes with the satisfaction of knowing his efforts hadn't gone to waste.


	2. The Set

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

: : The High Road of Honor : :

Chapter two The Set

Four days earlier...

"Say what!?" Pic gaped. "You want to stay and fight them?"

Milan nodded. "Yes."

The raven-haired reploid nearly lost his balance, holding out an arm to level himself. "Oh man, you've gotta be kidding! We can't fight Neo-Arcadia, they'll just wipe us out!"

"No, we've got to try and stop them." Milan reiterated, crossing his arms. "It will be difficult, but we don't have a choice."

"What about trying to escape from them? Did that ever cross your mind?"

"Escape to where?" Shawl added, motioning to the south. "The only thing that around us is wasteland and dense jungles. The closest city outside of Arcadia is Hokkaido, and that's little more than a weapon-making factory. Sure, we could try for Cragspoint, but we'd have to travel over three hundred kilometers across barren land _and_ worry about the Jin'en Regiment swooping down on us."

"But...!" He choked up on his words, seeing an end to his argument. The redheaded intelligence officer had always been blunt about her opinions. Her equally red eyes gave little sign to remorse for her statements.

"We've got to try and start a coordinated attack against them." She continued. "If we just stay scattered like this, then we'll be stamped out for sure."

"Which is why we need to go and find others to help fight." Milan took up the speech, borrowing from Shawl's strong words. "I know that you wanted to start an underground effort to bring reploids out of this place and to safety. Even if we must fight, there are still many others who are willing to help us. We've already got some contacts to help, and one is in the civilian security corps. With his help we can break into their armory to get weapons, then start our fight against Neo-Arcadia."

Pic arched an eyebrow. "Who is this contact? I've never heard of this."

"His name is Trant, and he is a shift leader for security on the armory. He can shut down the automated defense drones and security measures on the building for a time. Hopefully it'll be long enough to get the weapons we need and get out before any patheons arrive."

Pic mused on the words, trying to rope together a rough idea of what Milan wanted to do. The reploid was also a member of the security corps, but left to deal with his little revolution. Somehow he had met enough people to see the big picture and a weakness he wanted to exploit. Rumor had it that one of his contacts was a bigwig in the command structure of Neo-Arcadia itself. Originally he wanted to simply leave and take as many with him as possible. Now he was plotting a full-blown revolt against the government? It was as drastic a change as any he heard yet.

"So then, what would you have us do with these weapons? Stand in the streets and call out Neo-Arcadia like some grand tournament of good against evil? We'll be run down as soon as we face the Phalanx, and you _know_ they'll call it out if we act too boldly."

Milan's eyes shrouded in doubt, but he held himself resolute despite the obvious flaw in his plan. "We've got to try. Trant said that there's a collection of plasma weapons held in the armory, mark three pistols and mark two rifles."

That drew Pic's attention. The mark three pistol was a powerful package that could, with the right training, build up a plasma bolt large enough to demolish a patheon unit in one shot. The rifle could fire a barrage of plasma pellets to riddle an enemy with holes in a snap. That firepower was looked on as the holy grail of freedom. With those weapons in hand, then victory could be attained. "Plasma weapons..."

"That's right. With those we could fight the patheon on equal grounds. See this uniform?" He tugged on the sleeve of his green outfit. His appearance was strange compared to the others. Whereas the civilians wore mostly colorful clothes or scraps of cloth cobbled into cloaks, Milan was in a pristine black skinsuit and jade green pants and vest, a beret topping the appearance. "This isn't just a set of clothes. It's millititanim fiber, tough enough to take conventional arms fire with ease and even plasma shots to a degree."

"And the armory has them?" Pic asked.

"Yes."

The cynical reploid again paused to think on the plan. While it sounded good, he knew too well that it was built on too many ifs and maybes.

"Come on, Pic, make a decision." Shawl muttered. "You're the third makes a crowd man, we need your input to do this."

He snorted. Just because he prided himself on being a leader and thinker he was thrust into a place like this. "I don't know."

"We can't waste time with I-don't-knows! Choose one or another, dammit!"

"Don't think to boss me around, ladybird." Pic sneered. "It's not like you're any better at this!"

"Quit it, you two!" Milan shouted. "We don't have the time to argue like kids. Shawl, I know you want to get this over with. You want to make sure that we stay safe, Pic, and I respect that. You both need to understand that our freedom can only come when we push Neo-Arcadia out of our way. There's no way out except for fighting."

"What about your contacts, Milan! You said you've got friends in high places, can't you get them to make Neo-Arcadia ease up on the restrictions? Can't we negotiate to have the reploids sent to other regions if they think we're dangerous?"

At this Milan snorted in disgust. "Don't be a fool. You know who's my highest contact, Pic? Care to guess?"

Pic smirked, leaning against a pillar. "General Leviathan, maybe? You've got a pretty face, and I'm sure she's willing to-"

A crack to the cheek knocked Pic aside and to the floor, Milan holding a fist to ward any retaliation. "Don't be an ass. You want to know who it is? It's the person who leads right next to Master X as an advisor and scientist."

Pic rubbed his chin, aggravated at Milan's brashness. When the words hit home, he froze and stared into the distance. "No..."

"Yes." Milan grinned maliciously. "Head of cyber-elf studies and energy research and sole spokeswoman for reploid-rights, our very own Doctor Ciel."

"No!" Pic screamed in panic. "It can't be her!"

"Yes it is! The only person who bothers to help reploids keep their rights, and she wants to _defect_ from Neo-Arcadia and join us to escape and work on her research unfettered! She is our best hope for peace with Neo-Arcadia, and she's already given up!"

Pic nearly wept at the news. He held out all hopes that they could negotiate with the Arcadians, to find some middle ground to save them from being 'retired' and sent away. The energy crisis was looming in the future, and Master X saw that ridding the world of reploids was the best option to prevent the world from collapsing any further than it had. Humanity sought to kill its children to bring about their own salvation. Without Ciel, the moral leash holding Master X back, reploids all over the continent and the world would feel his wrath.

"Well, what do you have to say about peace and negotiations?" Milan asked.

"I...I'll..."

"I'll what?"

"I'll go along with it!" He shouted, head lolling back to stare at the ceiling. "And doom any chances that we had left..."

"Then it's agreed." Milan smirked in satisfaction. "Shawl, let's contact the others and let them know. I'll get in touch with Trant and Ciel. We'll commence the operation once we have her in safe hands."

"Gotcha." She turned and began a brisk walk to the doors leading outside.

Milan looked to Pic. "You can try and raise more numbers for this. Talk with Cale and Hirondelle, they know a lot of types who'll come along."

"Sure."

"Don't slack off, Pic, we need as many men as we can get. Peace was never a choice for us."

"I know." He sighed, standing.

"Good." He turned and walked to the set of doors, leaving the dark haired reploid alone with his thoughts.

_'It's started now. I've just opened Pandora's box, and there's going to be hell to pay. I've just doomed any chance we had to live in peace...'_

>>>

"That wasn't necessary." Shawl commented once Milan caught up with her.

He met her stride, walking calmly down a sparsely occupied sidewalk. "Yes it was. Pic may be a good man, but he's too much a pacifist to see the dangers peace have on their own."

"Still, you could have been nicer about it."

"Don't lecture me, Shawl, I've had enough of it."

"And Ciel is the inner contact? I can't believe she'd want to run out with us."

He pursed his lips. "She was the one who first gave me the idea to stage a revolt and escape in the confusion. Master X is looking at her as less an ally and more a traitor in his midst. If we don't get her out soon, I fear he might have her killed and declare open war on all reploids. Her research is too important to lose."

"This will do just the same thing, though, start a war between reploids and humans."

"Except we'll have Ciel to help us. The coming energy crisis is most of the problem that Neo-Arcadia has with reploids. If she can develop an alternate energy supply to aid our demand for power, then they'll lose their reason to kill us."

"What about the supposed risk of us going 'maverick'?"

"That's just an excuse! Humans steal, murder, and attack themselves all the time, but they don't choose to kill all humans to fix the problem. We're as human as they are, and some of us are prone to being criminals just like they are. There haven't been any _true_ mavericks in years."

"Except humans don't want to see that distinction. It must be too hard for them to accept that they're just as wicked as we can be." She rubbed her head, twirling a red spike of hair around her fingers. "They don't want to admit that their creations are as flawed as they themselves are."

"We aren't flawed, it's just part of human nature."

"But is it part of _reploid_ nature?"

"We're programmed to learn about the world from what we see. If we act violent, we must've learned it from someone, right?"

Shawl snickered her agreement. "True enough."

They remained quiet until they reached a public communication port on a street corner. Like phone booths of old, it was battered and worn out from the elements of nature and criminal tagging. Scanning in the meager payment for the call, Milan used his integrated Comm link to send a call to his man within the armory. Trant, hopefully, would be at his post within the security hut at the gate of the military building. Shawl leaned against a wall, relaxed that her counterpart would fix the details in his private conversation.

_'Neo-Arcadia facility thirteen, Trant speaking.' _

'It's me, Trant.'

A pause. 'Oh yes, Milan, what's up?'

'Want to meet for some coffee after your shift's up? I hear the place is testing a new drink.'

'Sounds good. What kind of drink is it?'

'They take some coffee and blend in a dollop of honey, then add a dash of spicy herbs to give it an extra kick.'

'Sounds good. I'll meet you there after work.'

'Alright.'

'See you then.'

'Right. Bye.'

He cut the communication, then looked at Shawl. "He knows. We'll meet at the crossroads once his shift is done to flesh any last details into the operation."

"Right. I'll take a walk and call up the others." She turned to leave, glancing back with a smirk. "I'll leave Doctor Ciel up to you."

"Sure." He gave a thumb's up. "Be risky."

"Risk to gain." She replied in turn with a chuckle.

>>>

"Hirondelle!" Pic shouted into the pitch dark tunnel. "You there!? Hirondelle!"

Silence came back from the large drainage pipe, dry and stale from a lack of sufficient rain. He knew the homeless reploid made this part of the city his home, and that he had no excuse to wander anywhere else. He walked to the lip of the pipe and climbed into it, able to stand upright and still not touch the top. He looked as far in as the light pierced, and no sign of the poor man was visible.

"Hirondelle!" Pic shouted long and loud, the name echoing down the pipe for many eerie seconds.

Nothing.

He sighed, then reached into the pocket of his musty jacket and pulled out a paper wrapped object. "I've got a free lunch for you if you show!"

A head suddenly popped out of a secondary access pipe. "Food? Real food?"

"BLT with extra pepper."

A body slid out along with the head, and Hirondelle ambled over to Pic with a hungry grin on his face. He snatched it and devoured half before he talked. "You treat me too well, man, much obliged."

"Can't very well come without a meal for my friend, can I?"

"Don't even suggest you wouldn't! Living on water for two months can really get a guy down on his hopes."

"You lived."

"Yeah, but do you know how _dull_ it was? I could barely move at all, just enough to get from the stream and back here to sleep." He grimaced. "Gods, that water tastes like rust and death."

"Well enjoy the meal, it's the last we may get for a while."

He paused, the last morsel of sandwich in his fingers. "The last? Why?"

Pic sighed. "We agreed on the plan. We're starting the revolt in a few days."

Hirondelle gulped the last of the sandwich and licked his fingers. "I suppose it was due to come sooner or later, eh?"

"Yeah. We've got a man to give us arms and protection, but little else. We'll be making attacks all over the city, and I guess we'll leave in the confusion."

"Did our Greenman tell you anything else?"

He nodded. "We'll be taking someone important with us, too...Doctor Ciel."

Hirondelle arched an eyebrow. "_The_ Miss Ciel? She's coming with us? Us!?"

Another nod.

"Well, if this isn't the best of news I've ever heard! Miss Ciel is a great scientist and engineer. If we ever needed someone to help us survive without Neo-Arcadia trying to kill us, it's her!"

"But it's still going to be dangerous. We might not even live to get away."

Hirondelle laughed, slapping Pic's shoulder. "Don't worry about living or dying, bro, it's a moot point if we can't get away from this place! Better to die on the way to paradise than never try for it at all."

"If you say so."

"I do! Sleeping and eating in the wastes of a place like this is just as bad as death, even worse to some!"

"So you're up to it?"

"More than up to it, friend!"

"Alright. Could you talk with the others around here? Let them know that the revolts will happen when we give the word, _and not before_. If we make a move without everyone behind it, Neo-Arcadia will see right through it and blow us apart. Get them together, I'll be in contact with the details soon."

"Alright! 'Till then, my man!"

"'Till then." The two slapped hands together, parting ways to spread rumors of a war.


	3. A Trail of Ghosts

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

: : The High Road of Honor : :

Chapter Three A Trail of Ghosts

"So what kind of weapons do you have for this?" Trant asked.

"Typical ones. G-7 auto-rifles and a few K-5 pistols with high explosive tips." Milan answered.

"That's it?"

"That's all we can get through the black market. Any more and they'd know something was up. We don't want anyone to think we're planning a revolution, even criminals and felons."

"No honor among thieves, is it?"

"None at all."

Trant fingered his chin, musing on the outcomes of the fight. Being a shift leader for the Armory security, he knew the patrol routes of all the guards and the routine paths the drones made. With the right buttons pushed, he could override the security locks and cameras. It would be seen as an accidental conflict of orders and bring a halt order to all mechanized units. The only risk was how long he could leave the conflict alone, how long a window he could leave for Milan and his men.

_'I know they can get in and out in a few minutes, but if they want to take all the weapons they have ordered, then they need more men and a bigger risk. If they get detected then any nearby patheons will come to inspect, and we'll be done for.'_

"Well, it's gonna be risky business to get in and out as quick as you can."

"Nothing risked, nothing gained." Shawl murmured, a phrase she took a liking to. "We're willing to do whatever necessary to get those weapons and armor."

"That's all well and fine, but I can only spare about ten minutes for you to do the deed. It'll take two minutes to get from the opposite end of the street to the storehouse and two minutes back. You'll only have six to pick up your things and get the hell out."

"We can deal with that."

Trant nodded, murmuring to himself. "Of course."

"So do you have the schematics of the armory?" Milan asked.

He reached into an inner pocket of his overcoat and drew out a folded paper. He opened it and smoothed it out on the table, the others leaning in to see what it was. "Behold, the floorplans of Armory Thirteen."

"Wow." Pic whistled. "Pretty twisted looking place."

"It's part of the safety measures. The corridors are all twisted and interconnect at odd places to make it tougher to get in and out without running by someone. It also helps to slow down anyone who'd try to get the goods."

"No problem at all! It's less confusing than my home in the pipes, for sure." Hirondelle smirked. "Just gotta study it a bit and remember how many lefts and rights you need."

"What about doors or keycodes?" Milan continued.

"Those will all be deactivated once I make the security system conflict. I can unlock the doors and open the automated ones for you, but that's all I can do without leaving my station."

"Why don't you help us, then?" Pic asked.

"He needs to act as if nothing is wrong for the time being." Milan replied. "If he works with us to get the materials out, it'll immediately draw suspicion to thievery. He'll be outside to check on a noise around the fence for our ten minutes, then return and 'discover' the conflict. That way it looks like a random error instead of sabotage."

Pic held a blank look for a moment. "Oh. Well, that makes sense."

Milan nodded, looking to Hirondelle and Cale. "So, how many men do you have willing to go with us?"

"I found lotsa others willing to fight Neo-Arcadia, that was no problem! The problem is only two of 'em are willing to go in the armory to carry things."

"I can vouch for three more to go, and I have almost fifty others who'll take part in the revolt." Cale added.

"So then it's you five, plus five more." Trant paused a moment to work some quick math in his head. "...Alright, you should be able to carry four rifles over your shoulders and carry a crate of things each. Remember that the crates are labeled with exactly what they have, so try and get weapons first and then any uniforms you can spare. Better to be armed than armored."

"Right." Milan nodded.

"So what will you do with the people who don't have weapons to fight with?" Trant crossed his arms. "I know you're all up for a revolution, but what about the ones who don't want to fight?"

"While we're making our strikes against the targets in the city, we'll have a separate team lead the non-combatants to a temporary haven in the ruins to the south. After we cause enough havoc, we'll disappear into the population and make our way to the ruins separately so we don't risk them if someone follows us."

"What about the Twilight Desert?"

"We can avoid most of it if we follow the magrail line that connects Neo-Arcadia to the ruins. After that we can cross the wilderness along the coast and pass through the Anatre Forest until we get close to Cragspoint. That city still has many freedoms that reploids don't enjoy here, and if that fails, we can always start working to send people to other lands with lesser governments."

"...What lesser governments? Last I heard Neo-Arcadia was the only real governing body left aside from the small factions that cling to the Megacity structure."

"There are places of freedom left, Trant, so don't worry about it. I'll see that everyone gets away safely, here or elsewhere."

The security reploid sighed, staring at the impetuous revolutionary before him. To think that people like him still existed was a surprise, especially from the ranks of the civilian security corps. Perhaps it was being a dog of Arcadia that made him yearn for freedom. "You're a rare man, Milan."

"I know." He nodded solemnly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to meet with Doctor Ciel and finalize my plans with her. We'll meet once more before Trant begins his shift, so everyone get a good night's rest. Tomorrow we gather our strength and make our move."

A chorus of goodnights follows Milan as he left the ancient grounds of the city park, now a rusted and overgrown testament to the oppression of Neo-Arcadia's rule.

>>>

The public halls of Neo-Arcadia were filled with monuments of progress and images of history. The government, once a mere plaything of the Maverick Hunter X, had many colorful times in it's history. Models of past tribulations, markers in the development of the governmental structure, and an entire bank of pictures dedicated to those lost in the wars regarding reploids and mavericks. Neo-Arcadia wished to be interconnected with the populace it served, and so had as many of it's doors open for them to walk through and see the process go on.

Despite the atmosphere, Milan still felt more nervous than a reploid ought to be. Security was invisible, and dressed in his only outfit aside from his green uniform, he looked as innocent and unsuspecting as any other human or reploid around. He still felt eyes on his back, as if the government workers were staring at him as if he was next on the list to be sent away for his 'retirement'.

_'Come on, don't pay attention to them. Just keep going, one foot in front of the other. I just have to meet with Doctor Ciel in the central plaza, then take her for some coffee at a local shop to talk about future negotiations with Neo-Arcadia's policy on reploid rights. We've met before. This isn't anything out of the ordinary.'_

His feet took him down the hall depicting the tumultuous history of reploid kind, many one of a kind pieces placed along the walls. From their meager start in the region of Japan to worldwide integration, the first of many maverick uprisings and the escalation of violence between them and the Hunters who battled them; The rise and fall of Repliforce, the Eurasia Cataclysm, the Nightmare Plague, and the Elf Wars that nearly ended all life upon the planet. One painting gave a stark image of the battle, humans and reploids all burning beneath the omnipresent entity of chaos and destruction, the Dark Elf surrounded in a dark and unholy aura. The hall ended with a large holographic image of the four Guardian generals and their superior, Master X, standing as pillars of hope for the new world.

_'Hardly anyone lived to tell these stories, and it's people like them who will make it dark and wicked. I hope that what we do will bring an end to this kind of meaningless bloodshed, for humans and reploids alike...'_

Passing out of the hall, Milan entered the vast plaza located at the center of the Neo-Arcadia government district. It was made in the image of a traditional Japanese park, filled with numerous ponds and bridges crafted in the finest detail. Cherry blossom tress coated the grassy land, their pink buds almost gone with the ending of spring. He walked quietly down the gravel paths, looking at each bench for a familiar face. It was near the center, where a fountain stood in the largest lake, that he found the person he sought.

"Good evening, Doctor." He announced.

She turned quickly, her ever present smile widening. "Hello, Milan."

"I'm glad you could come."

"It's no problem." She patted the space next to her. "Take a seat."

"We really should talk somewhere else." He insisted.

"Sit. I'd like to enjoy this place for a little while longer."

Hesitating, Milan took the place next to Ciel and let his eyes wander over the smooth waters of the lake. The fountain, an atypical goldfish, spouted water from its mouth to pierce the lake and create a gentle white noise throughout the area. The ambiance helped to settle his nerves. Perhaps for a human the effect held a greater feeling than his own could understand.

"Don't you think this is a nice place, Milan?"

He glanced at her, curious. "It's peaceful. Calm. A necessary thing when the world seems so troubled."

"I actually helped plan the layout of this park when Master X wished to do something to ease the public stress. It's become very popular since it opened two years ago."

"It's the first time I've seen it."

"I make it a habit to visit once a day, even just for a moment." She stood up, smoothing her dark magenta coat down. "I don't want to forget that the world used to be simpler than it is. A person can get so wrapped up in work that they forget the simple things in life."

"That's understandable." Milan stood as well, eyes scanning the area.

She turned to face him, visibly holding herself back from getting emotional. "Well, shall we go?"

He smiled, offering an arm. "Okay."

They stood and began the long walk towards the outside world, looking around them as if fleeing paradise to reside within the horror of reality. It was unavoidable, however. Soon even a place such as this would no longer be safe for reploids to enjoy, and soon no place on earth would be suitable for them. Both Ciel and Milan wished to bring a stop to humanity's genocidal war against reploid-kind, hoping to find some way to calm the fears that plagued the populace. When they stepped into the main lobby of the governments public sectors, they knew it would be the last time they would ever come here.

"Um! Miss Ciel?" A voice called from behind.

They stopped and faced the speaker, seeing a reploid walking to them. He was dressed in a typical uniform of a government employee, yet his long blonde hair caught them as something unique among all the others.

"Yes?"

"Ah...I was asked by General Harpuia to see if you'll be attending the monthly board meeting tomorrow evening?"

She did well to maintain a calm air. "I have a previous engagement to attend, so let him know I might be a little late."

"I'll do just that, Miss."

"Normally Harpuia doesn't talk to me of those meetings. Was there a special occasion?"

"I'm not sure...he just told me to find you and ask is all."

"Well, thank you for doing that, mister..."

He looked flustered. "E-Eplizo, Miss Ciel."

"Eplizo. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss! Have a good day." The reploid quickly walked off, glancing back as if fearing a harsh look from the scientist.

Milan glanced over to Ciel, and she looked back to him with a confused expression. Obviously she wasn't expecting someone to seek her out with something as trivial as that. Putting it aside, she resumed her casual pace towards the glass doors and the streets outside. They left the building and came into the rush and bustle of the downtown streets. People walked in droves along the sidewalks, cars and hovercraft speeding down the streets or waiting impatiently in traffic.

"So where shall we go?" She asked her escort.

"To the crossroads." He looked around, constantly scanning for any kind of threat to her safety. "We'll be meeting with the others and making our last plans before starting the revolt."

"Crossroads?"

"It's an open air coffee shop about a half kilometer from here, one of our safe meeting places in the city. We should take a subway to get there faster."

"Okay. Lead on."

>>>

"Check time."

Everyone made a mental note of the time, their internal clocks synchronized with one another's and marked with indicators at zero, two, eight, and ten minutes after one AM. Ten precious seconds to ransack the armory of everything they could carry. Shawl and Pic waited nervously as the seconds passed by, fingering their pistols in case of trouble. They were laden with large packs and cases, anything with a pouch that could hold a gun or ammunition or aid in taking materials from inside to the outside.

"One minute." Shawl whispered. "Check yourself and check your mate."

Everyone gave the other a looking over, making sure their outfits were tucked in and snug, that bags were strapped tight to the backs and nothing was exposed to clatter or make unnecessary noise. The redhead took a last measure of her plasma pistol's charge, the reader showing full power and no errors. Since she wasn't given proper clearance to have energy transfer nodes in her palm, the pistol would only have a limited amount of use before running dry. Only Trant and Milan had those built into their hands.

_'No time to worry about my lackings. I only hope that I can find those nodes somewhere inside so we can make better use of those guns.'_

"Fifteen seconds." Pic called, lowering himself for the sprint to the doors.

Everyone, ten people in all, stood and got ready to start the operation. Time crawled on its heels in a hope to delay this event. It mattered little, and time caught up and the security drones along the walls and the fence died with a snuffing of red lights.

"_GO!_" Shawl barked, pushing off to run for the doors.

The ten man team raced to the doors in the fence, passing through as they opened automatically. They reached the armory proper and pushed the door open, Shawl at point and Pic at the rear to provide protection. They ran down the halls and through open doors, pausing only to open a manually knobbed door to proceed. In two minutes they shoved open a heavy blast door and entered kids in a candy store heaven. Guns, ammo, and armored suits lay in orderly rows amidst crates and boxes filled with stores.

"Guns first, then ammo, then suits." Shawl reminded her crew, sliding an armful of rifles against her shoulder.

Everyone grabbed and tugged, pulling out suits and cooperating to heft boxes into an easy position to carry. Pic appeared a walking coat rack, arms filled with nearly a dozen suits and two berets donning his head.

"Where's the plasma weapons?" Someone asked. "I can't find them."

"Keep looking, they must be somewhere in here." Shawl ordered, checking through each crate and storage locker for the prized weapons of choice.

The internal clock ticked away, omnipresent time wearing at the raiders as they gathered as much as possible. When they looked ready to go, there was only two and a half minutes until the security would be reinstated. The plasma weapons weren't anywhere to be found.

"Let's move." Shawl ordered, lumbering to the doors and careful not to drop a thing.

"What about the-"

"Forget about them, we'll make due with what we got." She barked.

The ten ran back the way they came, not stopping to rest or look for any danger to their mission. Doors flew by, and halls were a blur to the memory. The grounds outside the armory yet within the walls were carefully maintained grasses and stone paths, a strangely innocent setting for the destructive power inside those walls. They passed through the doors in the fence, ran across the bright street, entered an alley, then faded from view and disappeared into the dark murk of the underground. Ten seconds later the security measures came back to life, and one reploid played the part of a stunned security guard as he sealed the walls again as if nothing was wrong in the world.


	4. Last Audacity

This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! _Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events._

Enjoy...

: : The High Road of Honor : :

Chapter Four Last Audacity

"This is all we got?" Milan eyed the stockpile of weapons with a nervous frown.

"Yes." Shawl answered from her spot against a concrete pillar.

"What about the plasma weapons?"

"Couldn't find them."

He looked to Trant, eyes prodding an explanation.

"I checked them when I began my shift. I don't know what happened to them if they weren't there." He slung a pack and tossed it next to the weapons cache. "I smuggled a half dozen plasma pistols from the locker in my hut. Mark ones and a three. Nothing fancy, but better than solid lead slugs. Which reminds me, I also got a few clips of adamantium tipped bullets for any snipers we've got around. Those can punch through three centimeters of steel with no problem."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Just the armor on my back and a lucky directional mine."

Milan sighed, rubbing his hair in frustration. "Damn it."

"We can still fight Neo-Arcadia with this, don't worry." Shawl stepped to the center of the conversation, hoping to raise spirits. "It may be tough, but all we need to do is confuse them so badly that we can slip out and to the ruins at Pyrric Square. Don't forget that we're just making a diversion."

"A weak one, at that."

"Better than just trying to leave and being taken away for an 'evaluation' of our mental health. We're prisoners, and if we want to stage a jail-break, then we must do something to get everyone's attention away from the real deal."

Milan poked a hand into the bag, drawing out a polished and dark steel gray pistol. He looked at it, appreciating the weight and ease of aim it had. The pistol recognized the sensor nodes in his grip, thus allowing the gun to draw its power right from his microfusion reactor. Hopefully, with some quick training, he would be able to adapt his energy matrix to force enough power into the weapon to give it a powerful charged burst of plasma.

"Well, what now?" Trant muttered, looking around at the number of reploids resting in the area.

Milan looked around as well, recognizing some faces but starting at a majority of new ones. These were the people brave enough to meet at the crossroads. Of course, not on the official floors of the cafe, but in its upper stories long abandoned to dust and time. A few dozen, and they would be splitting up to cause a ruckus all around the city to start their revolt and retreat. The civilians, anyone who wasn't willing or able to fight, were gathering at Pyrric Square under Pic and Cale's leadership. Once the battle was commenced, they were to retreat down the concrete storm channels towards the city limits and to the southern ruins.

"Milan?"

He looked back to the ex-security reploid. "Sorry, just thinking."

"No time for that, now." Trant huffed. "We're all here, so why not get it over with?"

Milan hesitated, anxiety running rampant through his mind. The risks seemed all the larger now, and that the meager hope they held was never going to be enough to get them through. There was still time to call it off. Wasn't there another way to get away from here without risking your life?

_'No! I've dug this trap, and I'm going to set it for those Arcadian bastards! I can't give up hope. I can't give up on everyone here and let them suffer!'_

"Okay, let's get-"

"Sir! Mister Milan, Sir!" A voice shouted from the hallways.

Milan hesitated, seeing one of the fresh-faced reploids huffing on the staircase. "What is it?"

"It's Miss Ciel, Sir, she's-"

"Come on, let me through now!" A female voice complained. "Milan? Are you in there?" The owner of the voice scooted around the reploid, walking to the essential leader of the resistance fighters. She was dressed conservatively, a black skinsuit similar to reploid issue suits, a pink skirt and vest, durable boots and a helmet with communication equipment within. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, still hanging past her waist and bobbing with her stride.

"Ciel?" Milan was surprised. She was supposed to be with Pic and the civilians. "Why are you here?"

"I've found something! Something that could help us fight Neo-Arcadia!" She reached into a pocket, drawing out a data tablet. "Here, everyone, take a look."

Several reploids crowded around her, and Milan had to shove one aside to get a good view. She clicked through several layers of documentation, then into an encrypted section of her work. Once inside, a humanlike image was shown with various bits of data circling around it. The figure wasn't in clear detail, but it looked strangely like Ciel herself. Black skinsuit, red armor, long golden ponytail and a helmet with angular fins on the side.

"What's this?" He asked the scientist.

She grinned. "I was looking through old Neo-Arcadian files about reploid history, and I found this file hidden deep in their servers. Apparently this is a powerful warrior from our past, one that worked to stop maverick reploids and eliminate the Sigma Virus."

"What's so special about that?" Trant grunted. "We don't need a history lesson, missy."

"Let me finish! I looked up all the information I could on this reploid, and apparently he was somehow connected to this Sigma Virus. He sealed himself away to try and get it purged from his body, and nothing was heard of his since." She switched to another file. "No official report was made on his disappearance, but a lot of people left rumors and information about where he may be sleeping. I compiled all this and-"

"Missy, this had better go somewhere." Trant interrupted again, glaring at her with deadly brown eyes.

"Zero!" She cried, pushed too far. "It's the legendary Maverick Hunter Zero! I compiled all this information, and according to it, Zero is resting somewhere inside the _ruins of the southern city_!"

That brought a deathly silence to the room, everyone taking a moment to absorb the meaning of the words. Most of the reploids in the world knew of the exploits surrounding the famed leader of the Maverick Hunter's Zero unit. He, alongside with the equally infamous Megaman X, were the foundation of the effort to stop Sigma and his intense hatred of humanity. He had died and was resurrected, once for certain and possibly a second time. He could render any enemy to scrap with his saber, learned in arts that no other reploid could match. He was the strongest reploid ever made, a legend, a god among mortals.

"Z-Zero is _there_?" Milan sputtered. "The southern ruins?"

"Yes." Ciel nodded, a wide smile on her face. "You know what that means, don't you? If he in still sleeping there, then we can wake him and have him fight with us."

"But would he?" Someone asked.

"He was always looking for justice. Once he sees what Master X has done, he won't have any seconds thoughts." Ciel closed the files and slid the tablet back into her vest pocket. "Don't you all see? We don't need to run from Neo-Arcadia anymore! We can search for Zero and stand our ground against them!"

"But we've already made up our minds to go for Cragspoint! You want us to stay here and fight? How can _we_ fight them!?"

"We don't all need to fight, just hold them off long enough for me to find him."

"Not alone you will!" Milan barked. "I don't want you to risk yourself looking for this legendary hunter. Give me the tablet and I'll look for him with some of the men."

"But you need to be with them." Ciel waved to the others present.

"I'm just one man, Ciel, and I'd need only a few others. Everyone else knows what to do." He looked to the security reploid. "Trant, can you take the lead of the men?"

"Me!? You're seriously going on a hunt for this legend based on some rumors?" He laughed harshly. "We've got bad enough odds on surviving long enough to escape. How can you just trust her so quickly?"

"I trust her, Trant. I trust her with my life, and she trusts me with hers. If you're so worried, then she and I can go alone and leave you only one man short."

The reploid glowered, crossing his arms and daring them on. Milan met his glare with an equal intensity. Both were once part of the civilian security corps, and both were trained in warfare and how to lead men. Sometimes, in regards to experience and ability in leadership, the two came to butt heads over who was better qualified. Now the differences between them was a chasm, and neither were willing to try and leap to see the others point of view.

Milan broke contact first. "I see. Come on, Ciel, we can go it alone."

"Are you sure?" She quivered.

"Yes."

Milan started to the stairwell, Ciel following, when Trant growled in frustration. Five other reploids followed them, and Milan gave the security reploid a grin and a nod of thanks. The two and five descended the stairs, secreted themselves through an alleyway, then began the long march to the ruins and to the salvation that awaited them. Trant barked out his orders to begin the attacks all over the city, waiting with grim determination to cross swords with Neo-Arcadia's eventual damnation.

>>>

"Hey!"

Pic mumbled in his sleep something akin to go away.

"Hey hey! Wake up, man! Back to the living with you!" He reached over and slapped the other's shoulder.

"Eh?" Pic yawned, eyes half open from his too short nap. "What is it?"

"We've got word from Trant is what!" Hirondelle replied. "Apparently Miss Ciel's found some legendary weapon in the southern ruins! She 'n Milan are making for it right now, so we'll be expecting them soon!"

"Okay."

"Oh, and the attacks are starting up, too."

Pic floundered. "Why'd you leave that for last! It's more important than some weapon!"

"Well, it's the last thing I want to dwell on, see? Besides, all we gotta to is start moving our folks out and to safety."

"Right! Come on, let's get going, then!"

The two stood up and spread the word among the fighting reploids present with everyone else. Pyrric Square was looking too crowded to avoid suspicion. Nearly five hundred reploids had taken heed of the words from the rebels, and they were all milling around the grounds with all their worldly goods on their backs. Pic hadn't anticipated this many to come, but Hirondelle laughed it off. Told you I knew a lot of folks willing to come, he joked.

"Okay, everyone!" Pic shouted to the crowd. "It's time. Everyone follow me and the others dressed in green suits! We'll be going through the flood channels to the magrail lines! From there we go to the southern ruins to make temporary camp, and from thereon out it's freedom or bust!"

The gathering reploids cheered and whistled, all marching in order with the greensuits that led the way. Their cheers, however, turned to screams of panic and fear when a hovercarrier swooped over the grounds and deposited a group of patheon drones.

The exodus began in earnest, encouraged by plasma and flame.

>>>

"Come on!!" Trant bellowed, firing his assault rifle at the patheons drones that ran for their position like mindless sheep to the slaughter. "Come and get it!"

Cale punctuated his shots with a grunt or laugh of satisfaction. His pistol, one of the few plasma weapons on their side of the battlefield, was taking out a unit with each shot. He pulled the trigger, a sphere of plasma encased in a magnetic field, shot out and slammed into a drone, eating away the thin armor and devouring it's torso in a miniature fireball.

"We're doing it!" Trant cried. "Keep it up!"

"No, we've got to fall back and start our retreat!" Cale insisted, backing away from his cover and glacing for an out to the edges of the city. "Besides, my gun's getting low on energy!"

"Is it time already? Let's get moving then!" He began backing away as well, sniping at the few patheons left on the street. "Everyone fall back, it's time to disappear!"

A chorus of replies came back, and the few dozen reploids all retreated from the field. The few wounded were assisted by others, the first casualty left on the street with a feral cry locked on his features. They all fled into the alleys, slinking through lots and into abandoned buildings. They all knew the routes to get outside of the city, be it the main roads or alleys or even underground pipes. Each had memorized the maps that led from Neo-Arcadia to the ruins, and knew that they had twenty four hours to make the crossing and join the others.

Cale kept up with Trant's pace, the bulky reploid moving quicker than he seemed able to. "How many you get?"

"Nine of 'em!" Trant cried. "I can't believe that they were so weak! I wasn't even using my adamantium rounds!"

"Save 'em for the bigguns, they'll come knowing our luck!"

"You bet I will!"

The two dashed through the alleys, looking behind if anyone was following that shouldn't be. Fortune kept with them during their flight to the limits of the metropolis. A quick check of a street, then a blind sprint across and into the foliage of Pyrric Square and they were on the way to safety.

"Anything?" Trant asked.

"Nope." Cale replied, eyes scanning the skies for any aerial threats.

"Let's move."

They pushed through the thickets surrounding the square, and entered a bloodbath.

"The _hell_?" Trant gasped.

"Oh no...no no no!" Cale stared wide-eyed at the carnage before them. Bodies were scattered everywhere, the smoking ruins of a hovercarrier sitting in the center with a dozen patheons in ruin alongside it. Reploids were lying everywhere, burned from the plasma bolts or carved in half by laser batons. Many of them were the fighters, their green armored uniforms barely suitable to stopping concentrated plasma. The farther south they looked, the more civilians were found.

"T-This can't be right!" Trant lost his balance and fell on his rear, eyes glazed over in fear. "We were doing so good! How can...they should've been easy to...how!? How did this happen?"

Cale closed his eyes, trying to force the sight from his mind. The images remained, burned into his memory. The failure was blinding him, and his fear and panic threatened to overwhelm his senses. _'No no no! How could they have found them? What happened out here!?'_

"Trant..."

"I can't believe it! We gotta do something...fight them off and keep going."

"Trant!" Cale shouted. "Pull yourself together!"

He looked at Cale with panic in his eyes. "We didn't do enough, Cale!"

"Stop it! Come on, get up and stop blabbering! Look!" He picked up the reploid by his arm and pointed to the distance. "Our people are out there. We've got to catch up with them. They might still be fighting, Trant, so let's go."

"Go..."

"To the _ruins_, Trant! Freedom!"

"Right...right! Let's get going, then."

The two reploids passed through the rubble and bodies of the fallen, taking a moment to give respect for those who died to protect the innocent. They lifted whatever arms they could, then continued through the square and to the storm channels below. Bodies were still to be found, but less of reploids and more of patheon drones and other meager mechanoids that were nearby. The concrete channels led to a minor river the poured to the ocean, and the magrail lines passed overhead on a small bridge. A lone resistance fighter was dead by the magrail line, an arm facing south as if pointing to freedom for the two.

"Halbert." Trant moaned, mouth trying to speak the words. "I...I knew him..."

"Don't." Cale warned, knowing that stopping to think would only cost them time and grief they didn't need. He saw that despite the security member's tough attitude, he was cracking all to quickly from the pressure and stress. "Mourn later, we need to go."

"Right..."

The two reploids followed the magrail line as it wound to the south, avoiding open ground and keeping as hidden as possible in the sandy flats. They stopped under a sun baked metal carcass, resting briefly to eat a meal bar and share a canteen of water. The sun lingered in the sky as the afternoon went on, but soon began to slide back to the horizon. By nightfall, the two were exhausted from the running and walking. They ducked into a tight metal ruin, digging into the sand to make a temporary barrier to the entrance. Both knew that any observation unit would be able to detect them by heat, and that the sand door was their best hope to stay hidden the night.

Night passed all too quickly, and the two reploids woke before dawn to continue their flight to the ruins. They passed by a large collection of metal debris, finding evidence that the main group of reploids had been there the night to rest. Spirits up, they followed the disruption in the sands. The ruined city loomed in the distance, but came closer as morning wore on towards midday. The sandy ground shifted to hard packed sandstone, then to dirt and eventually stone rubble and asphalt road. Following the information given to them, they followed the city border until they reached the southernmost tip, seeing an old factory lying at the edge.

Reploids were standing in the shadows, hiding and waiting for others to come.

"Hey!" Trant shouted. "Hey!"

"Who's there!" A voice called back.

"People seeking freedom and independence!" Cale replied the line, part of the safety measures for those arriving outside the main group.

"Then come and share in the struggle!" They met Trant and Cale halfway, clasping hands and embracing as they rode the high of being able to get this far. They appeared shaken and tired, but in good health. Cale was glad, and hoped that everyone else was in good shape as well.

"What news?" He asked.

"We took some bad losses at Pyrric Square. When we started the attack, they made a strike against the crossroads. I don't think anyone made it out."

Cale clenched his teeth. The square they saw, but the crossroads was neutral ground. Neo-Arcadia must have decided to use this attack as an excuse to raid the place and kill the sympathizers that aided their revolt.

"Shawl's inside. She'll want to talk with you."

"Okay."

He and Trant went inside the ruined building, seeing that it was almost hollowed out save for a segment collapsed in from age or demolition. All the fighting reploids were posted along the walls, hiding by cracks and peering outside. At a corner, populated by the 'leaders' of the resistance, was Shawl at the control of her personal sensor array. Made of mostly scraps and spare parts, it did its job of reading certain energy signatures anywhere within three kilometers. He knew the only thing it was made to detect properly was the energy reading from a patheon. If Neo-Arcadia came for them, then they would use their limitless Patheon Phalanx to swarm over them with raw numbers.

"Shawl!" Cale called out.

She looked back, and bore a grim smile. "You made it, I see."

"Did you ever doubt that we would?"

"I was starting to. All the others made it here last night. What took you?"

"We stopped at sundown and hid out to rest." He sat down by her, resting against a wall. "What news?"

"We got reports in from Milan and Ciel. They've made a lot of progress in their search and have it pinned down to a few locations. It shouldn't be more than an hour until they find our legend."

"That's good." He sighed in relief.

"Don't get comfortable." Her tone made him flinch, and she motioned to her sensor terminal.

He looked at the piecemeal machine, checking over the screen. The top was showing a few energy signals, blips that lit up as the sensor swept over their location. A second pass and even more signals appeared. A third and the number increased tenfold. The energy readings were growing higher each time, the estimated power levels becoming insanely crowded. The terminal beeped, and a message read out in the corner. Because of the numerous variables coming so quickly, it altered its scan to give an estimated total strength of the massed readings. The numbers it showed were very familiar.

Unmistakable, in truth...


End file.
